


The Leader Type

by flitterflutterfly



Series: Tumblr Prompts [19]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ouran High School Host Club, Dom Steve Rogers, Except Not High School, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Some Avengers Side Pairings, Sub Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:07:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flitterflutterfly/pseuds/flitterflutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers works at a host club in New York City along with the rest of the original Avengers. He's the leader type host, dominant and protective, and his favorite client is a beautiful man named Bucky Barnes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Leader Type

**Author's Note:**

> Written for sound-track-of-my-lif3's tumblr prompt for a Host Club AU.

The Avengers Host Club was one of the most popular business establishments in New York City. For just a hundred dollars every half hour, anyone over 18 could rent a host to entertain them.

There was a number of hosts to choose from. First there was Tony Stark, the sarcastic one. His half hour tended to include him insulting his clients, running verbal circles around them, and then—so they wouldn’t all leave in a huff—showing off some cool invention he’d supposedly been inspired to make by them.

Second was Bruce Banner, the intellectual. His half hour was often spent talking out his clients’ problems with them. Some of his clients spent their half hour trying to get Bruce angry because there was nothing more scary than an angry Bruce—but since the good host had amazing control, that very rarely worked. That didn’t stop those clients from spending more money to come back and try again.

Third was Thor Odinson. He was a combination lovable puppy type and insanely hot frat boy. He had no problems going shirtless for his clients, picking them up and swinging them around, laughing with them over drinks, etcetera.

Fourth was Clint Barton, the recluse. His half hour was spent by his clients searching for him. He tended to perch up high somewhere in the expansive host club complex. His clients liked the game though and he always rewarded those who found him with a massage or something similar.

The fifth was Natasha, the only hostess. She actually had a larger female client base than Bruce or Clint. Her sessions were usually spent verbally analyzing her clients, pointing out their flaws and their strengths—places they were admirable and plays they needed to improve. With her easy control over even crowds of clients, she was effortlessly popular.

The final host was Steve Rogers, the leader type, the captain. He was naturally dominant and in charge. His protective nature led his clients to feeling instantly safe around him, unless they were bullies idiotic enough to spend a hundred dollars to spend half an hour intimidated by the man. 

Like all the hosts, Steve loved his job. His nature was uniquely suited to his position in the club. He enjoyed spending time with all of his clients, especially his regulars. If he was being honest to himself, though, there was one client in particular he always looked forward to seeing.

It was the last half hour before closing, so the group all had one more round of clients. Steve headed to the schedule roster to see who would be out in the waiting room for them—hanging around and reading magazines or watching the TV until the previous session ended.

“Tony, Justin Hammer’s back,” Steve announced as the other hosts walked up to him to get their assignments.

“I hate that man,” Tony groaned. “When’s Pepper back on my roster?”  
  
Steve checked, knowing that Virginia "Pepper" Potts was Tony’s favorite client. Unlike the others, she didn’t put up with being insulted and instead spent most of the half-hour picking Tony’s brain. Tony loved it. “Tomorrow morning, first thing.”

“I guess I can deal with Hammer if I have that to look forward to,” Tony said. He headed off to the waiting room to pick up his client and take him back to his workstation.

“Natasha, you have a new client. His name is Sam Wilson.” He showed Natasha a picture and Natasha nodded. “Clint, you’ve got Coulson.”

Clint grinned. Phil Coulson almost always found Clint within the first ten minutes of the session—he was the best at it of all Clint’s clients. As a result, Clint usually ended up giving the man a twenty minute massage.

The Avengers were very careful to stay in the law, which meant they couldn’t allow for anything sexual inside the walls of the club. However, Steve knew that Phil often took Clint’s last spot of the day as a sort of foreplay. More often than not, the two ended up leaving the club together and spending the night at Phil’s place. Steve also knew that Tony would love to have the same arrangement with Pepper, but Ms. Potts was much harder to woo and likely wouldn’t sleep with Tony without some sort of official commitment. She was smart like that.

“Bruce, you also have a new client.” He showed the man a picture. “Thor, seems Jane and Darcy are doubling up again.”

“My favorite ladies!” Thor exclaimed, beaming. He never seemed to mind that the two often split the rate to hire him together.

With all the Avengers off to get their clients, Steve looked finally at his client's name. He smiled—Bucky was back.

He headed to the waiting room and found Bucky sitting patiently with a magazine in hand. “Buck,” he called.

Bucky looked up and smiled beautifully. Steve found his breath catching, an automatic reaction to that smile. He didn’t let it show though and instead held out his hand in an easy command. Bucky put the magazine aside and stood, walking over before slipping his calloused hand into Steve’s.

“Ready?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. He didn’t like to talk during their sessions, Steve knew, unless commanded to do so. Steve was fine with that, had learned how to read Bucky’s body language in the months Bucky had been his client. In fact, the few times Bucky had been talkative during the sessions had spelled trouble for Steve, with Bucky too wired up to relax and let go like Steve wanted him to. Talking, Steve had learned, was Bucky's foremost defensive strategy, so the fact that Bucky was already easily silent spelled only good things for the night.

Steve led Bucky to his station. The hosts all had their own spaces, though they weren’t entire separate rooms. White noise generators and screens helped block out the other host/client pairs (or trio, in Thor’s case). So no one was able to see Bucky or here Steve command him to kneel in front of his chair.

“What do you want tonight, Bucky?” Steve asked. He didn’t really know a lot about his client, but he knew enough to have figured out that Bucky came to Steve when his job became too much and he needed to be taken out of his own head. If Steve were to guess, he’d say Bucky was either a cop or a fireman—maybe something more, but Bucky had said before he was a Brooklyn boy and rarely left the city limits so that limited the options.

“Can you–” Bucky cut himself off and looked away.

Steve sighed. Bucky’s body had suddenly turned in on himself, as if he was ashamed of what he’d been about to say. He put a hand under Bucky’s chin and forced him to look at him. “None of that,” he chided. “Tell me, Buck.”

“I just want to be held,” Bucky said, in barely more than a whisper.

Steve felt a piece of his heart break and it was so sudden, so surprising, that he couldn’t react for a moment. He had noticed, of course, that Bucky made him react just a little more—a bit more personally—than other clients but... this was more than just attraction. He wasn't sure how exactly, yet, but it was something.

Steve recovered quickly from the internal shock and nodded. With ease, he pulled Bucky over to the pile of blankets and pillows that made up most of his station and wrapped his arms around him.

Bucky shuddered once, twice, and then went still in Steve’s arms. 

Steve stayed silent, stroking Bucky’s brown hair with one hand. He had Bucky’s legs trapped under his, his arms trapped between their bodies. That seemed to be exactly what Bucky needed, he was relaxing more by the minute, eyes closed and breathing even against Steve’s neck.

Observing Bucky, Steve wondered at the feeling in his chest. He’d held a lot of clients, helped them through panics and subdrop and general anxiety. Never before had he _felt_ so much for one of them as he did for Bucky. He was an artist by nature, though, and good at self-reflection. It didn't take much time for him to find the source of the new affliction.

Steve let out a soft noise, unwillingly, as he realized that he didn’t want Bucky to be his client. It wasn’t that he wanted to have sex with Bucky—that realization had happened during their first session but he’d been good at keeping it back. No, Steve wanted to _own_ Bucky, wanted to be there for him, wanted to be able to hold him every night when they both got home from work. 

He wanted Bucky. He wanted Bucky to want him back.

Steve let his head drop down so his forehead was touching the crest of Bucky's head. He was so screwed. There was no going back from this realization, he knew that. He wouldn't be able to keep things professional much longer. He had a responsibility to tell Bucky. But... not now. Not when Bucky was like this, so vulnerable and trusting in his arms.

Halfway through the session, Steve judged Bucky was in the mental place where he could hear praise and not freak out, so he started telling Bucky how good he was, how happy Steve was with him. Bucky began to squirm a little with every piece of praise, until he was blushing bright red but unable to keep a smile off his face.

Steve loved seeing Bucky like this. It created a hot surge through his gut, half-arousal half-glee, because Bucky was so beautiful when he was happy. Steve couldn't believe there weren't people lining up at Bucky's door begging for a chance to date him, to see that happiness on the man's gorgeous face because of them. If Steve had met Bucky as anything other than host and client– but those were unproductive thoughts.

Steve realized he'd been stroking Bucky's blushing cheek with his thumb. Bucky was staring up at him, wide-eyed and bright red. Steve's eyes dropped to those plump lips, ripe to be kissed,  _claimed_.

The timer went off, signaling the end of the session. Bucky began to pull back out of Steve’s arms immediately, but Steve suddenly found it extremely hard to let him go. He forced himself to, then helped Bucky stand—though the man hardly needed it.

Steve stared at Bucky for a moment, considered letting the man go, and then decided that he was braver than that. Bucky had a look in his eyes, something dark and considering, and Steve knew this might be his only chance to make his stance clear. Bucky was too damn smart to let himself be caught in an uncomfortable situation and he had no intention of walking away from this beautiful man without at least a small fight.

“Let me walk you to your car?” Steve asked.

Bucky blinked, obviously surprised, but he nodded. 

Steve passed Bruce as they headed out. He asked him softly if he could lock up that night and Bruce nodded without asking any of the awkward questions the others would have. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and urged Bucky along with a hand at the middle of his back. He knew he should drop the hand, put some more distance between their bodies. He’d never interacted with Bucky outside the club walls, knew this was possibly a terrible idea, but until Bucky’s body language changed dramatically or he verbally asked Steve to back off, Steve couldn’t make himself stop.

At Bucky’s sleek silver car, Steve cleared his throat. “I’m going to tell you something. You don’t have to do anything about it. You can forget I ever said anything. I won’t pressure you or anything, I promise. But… I have to tell you, Bucky. I want you. I want to date you and take you home and, I think, I could very easily want to spend my life with you.” He looked away, all his courage fading now that the initial push was over. “I just thought you should know.”

“Steve,” Bucky said, and Steve looked back at him. Bucky’s eyes were all fondness and amusement, gorgeous even in the city nightlight. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Steve’s heart, missing a little piece he'd given to Bucky without realizing, ached as if in anticipation.

“So ask,” Bucky continued, a sly smile coming over his mouth.

“Bucky, will you go out with me?”

Bucky leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, before tucking his head against Steve's shoulder and neck so that Steve instinctually wrapped his arms around the man. "Yes," Bucky whispered. "If you agree to hold me like this whenever I want."

"Always," Steve promised. "I won't let you go, Buck. Not 'til you ask me to."

He was only just able to make out the small, "Thanks," Bucky whispered into his skin.


End file.
